Canon and Uncanon - a collection
by UniquelyMi
Summary: Latest: It wasn't just chance, that nobody was bitten on June 7, 1993. Hermione used her time-turner for more than one thing. That day, and the events that prompted it. Written for the Quidditch League Fandiction Competition.
1. Win For Me

**Summary: **_"He's dead, Cho," Marietta said, her eyes filled with tears. "He's dead and isn't coming back."_

**Disclaimer: I have no claim to Harry Potter.**

"Tied for first place, Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory!" Bagman announced.

The crowd cheered wildly, a mass of faces, but all Cedric could see was Cho, beaming at him, her eyes betraying a touch of nervousness. "Win for me," she had said earlier, and Cedric had promised to try. He touched his cheek softly, remembering the way Cho had kissed him and thrown her arms around him.

It was funny - all those people, all those friends up there, but his eyes were only for Cho. She had entered his notice at the beginning of that year when she smiled at him, surrounded by a group of friends, and then turned away. Since then he had never been able to forget her, He watched her during lunch, watched her during classes, even in the hallways, sometimes he would just stop and stare until one of his friends brought him out of his reverie. Sometimes she would look back.

She was kind and sweet. She hated to disappoint people. She was emotional and innocent. Cedric wished her eternal happiness or at least for her to remain untouched by tragedy. Cho attracted people, friends. There was something about her. Just being with her uplifted Cedric. It was the way she smiled, looking so free. It was the way she went out of her way for other people and never put them down. It was the way happiness seemed to come so naturally to her that she had never even learned how to forget grief.

Cho looked at him, her eyes shining with pride and yet uncertainty. She mouthed something at Cedric, which he couldn't pick out. But if he could hazard a guess, he would guess "I love you."

He hoped that that was it, because he loved her too, he realized now. He wanted, more than anything, to make her proud. And even more, he wanted to do the right thing, for her sake, because she would do the right thing.

Cedric squared his shoulders, tore his gaze from her, and entered the maze.

* * *

As Cho watched Cedric, she wasn't imagining him winning. She wasn't imagining him picking up the cup. She wasn't looking forward to when he came out of the maze. It would be safe, she told herself as her heart beat faster. The teachers knew what they were doing. But more than ever before, she feared for his safety.

It wasn't the same as the second task, when she was sleeping underwater. Not even the first, where she could watch. As Cho watch Cedric walk up to the maze she felt a hint of foreboding. His gaze moved towards her and she beamed to cover it, but it felt fake. Because all she could think about was the numerous people who had sent away their loved ones, only to never have them come back.

Her breath caught in her throat at the thought. He would come back! He would! She was being paranoid, there was nothing that could go wrong. Yes, he might not be unharmed, a thought that made Cho cringe, but he would come out. She had faith in him. He hadn't become the - a - Hogwarts champion for nothing.

And yet…"win for me", she remembered telling him. Now she wished she had said "live for me". Because she was scared, no, terrified. He couldn't die, she loved him! She loved him! Oh, how she wished she had realized it earlier, told him earlier. Tears stung her eyes, making them look brighter. He was looking straight at her. Cho mouthed "I love you, Cedric" at him but didn't know if he saw, know if he understood. Cedric squared his shoulders and disappeared into the maze. And then all she could do was wait.

* * *

It was taking too long, Cho realized. People began whispering to each other that something had gone wrong. Already Fleur and then Krum had been brought out, unconscious, and screams had been heard. Panic rushed through her. Cedric was still in the maze. Why didn't he just send a shower of sparks? Harry Potter could get the cup, she just wanted Cedric alive. Oh Cedric, come out, she begged. Come back.

And then two people appeared. Cho recognized both of them instantly, one was Cedric, but he wasn't moving. And the other - it was Harry. But what had happened to him? His leg was bleeding and he was shaking like he had been tortured. And he was holding the cup.

"Diggory," Cho heard numbly, and then "dead." Her breath caught at that and she turned away. No! He was stunned, that was all, and they could enervate him and he'd be fine. Oh, why didn't they just enervate him? Why wouldn't they wake him up?

"He's dead, Cho," Marietta said quietly next to her as if in answer to her question.

"No. He isn't. He can't be!" Cho said blankly. "He isn't!"

"He's dead Cho," Marietta repeated as Cho's vision swam, and all she could hear was Marietta. "He's dead and he isn't coming back."

"He can't be," Cho said desperately. "Tell me he isn't!"

Marietta looked at Cho, her eyes filled with tears and pity. "I'm sorry Cho," she said, her voice choked, "but I can't."

"NO!" Cho screamed. "He isn't!" She began shaking Marietta. "Stop it! STOP IT!"

"He's d-" Marietta said before she couldn't hold back her tears and let them fall freely.

"Stop it! Please! Why are you doing this to me?" Cho demanded, shaking Marietta harder. "Why?"

Marietta just shook her head, gasping for breath between tears, unable to speak.

They were leaving now, going back into the school. Cho stood up numbly, unable to speak, unable to cry, unable to believe. She couldn't.

"I love him," Cho said.

Marietta went with her when she wanted to see Cedric, needed to see Cedric, even though she said it would only make it worse. Cho knelt down beside the unmoving body and put her ear to his heart. For a moment she imagined a steady beat, but there was none. He was dead.

"Why? Why?" Cho demanded, crying on Marietta's shoulder. "He was a good person!"

Marietta shook her head helplessly. "I'm sorry, Cho."

As Cho wept Marietta patted her on the back, smoothing her hair, drying her eyes, helping her to their dormitory. The other Ravenclaws gave them privacy, respecting her grief, her loss.

She learned that Cedric and Harry had taken the cup together, that Harry had offered to take it together. She couldn't be mad at Harry for trying to be generous. But a few tears wobbled out when she was told that, a few tears, no more. And her own words echoed at her. "Win for me".

Cedric had won the Triwizard Tournament. But Cho wished that he had lived.


	2. Doubting

**Summary:** _Some are born leaders. Others achieve leadership. Even if they don't realize it themselves._

**Disclaimer: **I lay no claim to Harry Potter or any other part of the wizarding world.

_Can it be,  
I'm not meant to play this part?  
-_Reflections, Mulan

* * *

Neville Longbottom sat on the top of the Astronomy Tower, arms wrapped around his knees. Though he stared over the edge, he wasn't seeing the sun, half covered by afternoon clouds. Instead he was remembering Michael Corner's face, twisted with anguish and defiance as he screamed from the Carrows' torture. They had done it in front of their whole Defense class. He could still remember faces; Hannah's, almost as pale as Michael's; Crabbe and Goyle, eyes shining with a sick pleasure; Padma, tight with tension but carefully controlled.

Was he the right person for this? Neville still had doubts, normally pressed away, but brought out to the forefront of his mind by some events. For days afterwards Michael exhibited signs of the Cruciatus, pale and weak and shaking. For weeks afterwards he flinched upon seeing the Carrows. Michael had been forced to continue going to class despite his state of health and only a covert trip to Madam Pomfrey had gotten them potions to help the Ravenclaw. Fortunately, the Room of Requirement provided help as well, but Michael would never fully recover from his punishment.

Nobody dared take such risks again, of course, and Neville couldn't ask that of them. Maybe someone like Harry, or Hermione, or even Ginny could have inspired them to risk their life and sanity. He knew _he_ would follow Harry anywhere, whether he could see his transportation or not, whether Harry asked or not, whether he even knew what the cause was or not. But he also knew that he wasn't that kind of leader. So they stopped graffiti-ing the walls, stopped freeing chained-up first years, and stopped pulling most reckless stunts. Oh, they kept training, kept fighting back, but they had been cowed, and the Carrows knew it, and in turn became braver.

If Harry had been here this would not have happened. In the back of his mind, Neville always had Harry there: Harry, Ron, and Hermione, for the three were always together. They had stood up to Umbridge when no one else would, faithfully sticking to the truth even when the truth wasn't what others wanted to hear. They took action when others merely dreamed of taking action. In his mind's eye, influencing his every decision, Neville could still see Harry, stubbornly insisting that Voldemort (he was Voldemort in their thoughts now) was back, Hermione, nervous but determined to rebel, and Ron, rarely taking the spotlight but always backing them up, supporting them, as important in his own way as the other two. More than ever before he wished they were here.

And he missed Luna and Ginny, who had always been there before to help him make decisions. He wished they were here still. Even their presence had been a comfort. But they were both gone. Luna had been taken off the Hogwarts express to punish her father for the Quibbler's truths and Ginny had left for Easter and never come back. At least she was safe at home, though she would probably hex him for thinking that. Without them the rebellion had lost some of its fire, its mischief, something that Luna and Ginny had always added unthinkingly and helped keep the rebellion alive.

Why was he the leader; the one others looked to? He knew he had changed. Even Gran was proud of him now. And yet he was still surprised whenever he did something right, whenever he wasn't that blundering, forgetful coward he had been in his first years at Hogwarts. And he was still afraid of leadership. Every time people looked to him for help he wanted to scream "Ask someone else!" Sometimes he still looked over his shoulder to see if Harry was behind him; or Ginny perhaps. When the Carrows spouted their usual nonsense he still looked around the class, half-expecting Harry to stand up furiously and argue, before doing it himself. He wasn't a leader, no matter what other people thought. They didn't know that he had to force himself to take command.

No, he wasn't the right person for this. That, at least, was certain.

* * *

He heard another pair of footsteps from behind him and stood up instantly, ignoring his protesting legs, drawing his wand to face the newcomer. A disarming spell was already on his lips when he recognized Hannah Abbott.

"Nice reflexes," the Hufflepuff commented with an attempt at a smile.

Neville could see it so vividly still, Hannah's face standing out, stark white in the darkened classroom. "I'm sorry about Michael," he said softly.

"Why are _you_ sorry?" Hannah asked sharply.

"I should have stopped it, should have done - anything, really," he said, his thoughts and voice bitter.

Hannah looked at him like he was crazy. "You're such a Gryffindor, Neville."

Somehow the comment, spoken in that tone stung, though Neville had only ever been proud of being a Gryffindor before. "Aren't Hufflepuffs like that too? All about loyalty and what-not?"

"We support common sense as well, though," and here she blushed, "not all of us use it all the time. But after the Chamber incident…well, I've learned to think before I do anything."

Neville looked at her quizzically, unable to figure out what she meant. "What did you do?" A sudden recollection flashed in his mind. "Oh…you suspected Harry, didn't you?"

Hannah smiled ruefully. "It was mostly Ernie - he _was_ closest to Justin, though, and panic can influence your reasoning. But we're Hufflepuffs, you know, we're a tight-knit House. Enough about us, though," she said abruptly. "What are you beating yourself about?"

She said us in a way a Gryffindor probably never would, not to mean the other person in the room but automatically the rest of her house. Someday Neville would have to ask her more about Hufflepuff - it occurred to him that he really didn't know anything about the other Houses. "I'm not beating myself up."

"People don't just sit at the edge of the Astronomy tower for nothing," Hannah said. "And they don't feel bad about things that weren't their fault for nothing either. Spill."

Neville wondered, not for the first time, how she had gotten so good at interrogating others. He supposed it was a Hufflepuff thing. "I wish I was more like Harry," he said quietly.

Hannah's eyebrows crinkled. "Whyever would you want that?"

Whatever reaction Neville had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. "Why not? He's - I can't explain it, really. It's just, I'd follow him anywhere. And -"

"You think he would be better here," Hannah finished. "You think that you aren't as good as him."

She sounded like the idea was completely ridiculous, though her tone was soft and understanding. "Well…he's a natural!" was all Neville said.

Hannah regarded him. "It's probably a Hufflepuff thing, but I disagree. Not that he has a lot of talent, but that you're not as good as him."

Neville opened his mouth to protest, but Hannah cut him off.

"I remember you, in first year. Even though you were the best in Herbology, you never really answered questions. You were always nervous. But you fought it. Look at you now! Standing up to the Carrows, leading the DA…"

"I don't like it!" Neville burst out, revealing one of his deepest secrets. "Every time I get up to say something in front of people -"

"You look around for someone else to do it first," Hannah finished. "I do have eyes, you know. But as a Hufflepuff, I think that's great, because you won't plunge into anything without thinking."

Neville stared at Hannah. He had never thought about it that way. And of course, the badgers, famed for their work ethics, would see it that way. "I still wish I was more like Harry," he said.

Hannah smiled at him. "So try to."

And then she left, leaving Neville with a small, growing smile on his face. Maybe he wasn't the right person to lead the DA. But maybe he could try to become one.

_fin_


	3. In Times of Trouble

**Summary:** _War is hard for everyone, whether you go in hiding, join a secret rebellion, or actively fight. But it's particularly hard when you're stuck in the heart of the enemy with nobody to turn to. Fortunately, Percy Weasley found someone._

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, not profiting, fair use, and yaddeyaddeya.

**In Times of Trouble**

Most 21-year-olds are not attracted to small, wispy women who dealt with rules all day. But then again, most 21-year-olds are not wizards, the junior undersecretary to the Minister, or caught in the middle of a war with no side to turn to. So maybe it wasn't that odd that Percy Weasley would be interested in Mafalda Hopkirk. She was, after all, the only person he was on speaking terms with that didn't want to purge the world of all but pureblood supremacists.

Mafalda, despite working as an assistant in the Improper Use of Magic, was frequently forced to keep records for the Muggle-born Registration Commission. Since most Muggle-borns were in hiding, her main duty was gone as well. Percy had worked with her now and then and they sometimes conversed even when not at work, though the wariness in her eyes stung. The Muggle-born Registration Commission had really been the final straw for Percy. He could not, not after growing up as a Weasley, not after knowing Hermione, believe that the Ministry was right about this, and so his carefully molded ideas and dreams had come crashing down with one realization.

So the knowledge that Mafalda, someone who he inexplicably liked (he stubbornly avoided the word "love"), believed he supported the Ministry and everything about it hurt more than anyone could know. _She_ respected Muggle-borns, he could tell. He had observed her while taking note and the hidden revulsion in her eyes as she listened was plainly visible to him, though Umbridge and Yaxley, the main interrogators, never noticed.

When Hermione impersonated Mafalda when she, his brother, and Harry Potter - nobody knew who Harry's associates had been but it was obvious, really - broke into the Ministry and freed the Muggle-borns (to his private delight), Percy had been the only one to think to look for Mafalda. He found her in a passageway leading to a crowded room full of strange masks and cloths.

Whoever had cast the stunner - probably Hermione - had done it too strongly, to his slight indignation. She was still knocked cold when he found her, though an enervate remedied that.

She opened her eyes groggily, still lying on the floor. They focused on him. "Per - Weasley?"

"You were stunned," Percy said gently, savoring the slip, wishing she could have finished it, wanting to hear his name on her tongue. He forced his voice to remain light and clinical. "Hermione polyjuiced as you and helped release the Muggle-borns who were being questioned. The Ministry's in chaos. Thought you'd like to know." Not sure of what to say next, he turned and walked away.

A hand grabbed his robes, stopping him. "Wait!" Mafalda cried out. "Why are you telling me this?"

Percy turned, considering. _Because I like you_, he thought about saying. _Because I care._ He said none of this. "I didn't want you to get in trouble because of Harry's plans, whatever they are," he explained. He could tell his ears were turning red. "It wouldn't be fair."

"Harry?" Mafalda asked, her eyes calculating.

The implication stung. "He's only been the best friend of my younger brother for six years," Percy said, uncharacteristically sarcastic.

Mafalda blushed. "I'm sorry, I thought -".

"It's alright." _It's always alright_, he added to himself. "Now, what are you going to do?" He didn't want to stop talking to her, not when neither of them had to pretend, not when he had a moment in private, and yet he knew that soon people would come looking.

Mafalda tilted her head slightly, thinking. Was that hesitation he saw? No, it had to be his imagination. "I suppose you could stun me again and leave me somewhere where I can be found. Where are we anyways?"

To Percy's embarrassment, he actually had no idea. "I don't know," he admitted. He racked his brain - what did he know about this? "Some Muggle thing. Let's go out and we can see."

Eventually they decided to lay her outside the door and pretend a weak disillusionment charm had been cast on Mafalda. As Percy prepared to stun and very temporarily disillusion her, a hand grasped his. "Percy?"

"Mafalda?"

"Thank you." She leaned in and kissed him impulsively. Percy stiffened and she pulled back. "Sorry - I -"

Percy cut her off by kissing her softly on her full red lips, letting her fall back in his arms as he deepened it. He wasn't sure what made him do it, he just…did it. After a few seconds they both pulled back, staring at each other.

"Do you…want to do that again sometime?" Percy asked awkwardly. _No, don't say it like that!_ he screamed at himself.

Mafalda grinned and he knew he was smiling sappily as well. "Sure. Um…stun me?"

Percy nodded and she lay down, fixing a startled look on her face, her wand clattering out of her hand. Two spells and she was unconscious and invisible. Percy stared at the empty space as she reappeared and then forced himself to rip his eyes off her and hurry back into the Ministry.

Mafalda escaped punishment, fortunately, and she gave Percy credit for that, despite his denials. After all, she insisted, she would have come wandering into the Ministry otherwise and possibly not been believed. Percy's heart clenched whenever he thought of what could have happened and he couldn't help blaming Hermione.

Afterwards they began smiling at each other when they passed in the hallways. Sometimes Mafalda and Percy would Apparate a little further from the Ministry than strictly necessary to have some time together. Sometimes they walked in silence, just basking in the other's presence, and sometimes they talked quietly about anything from their favorite foods to the war. It was one of the few beautiful moments away from the war. Percy treasured each and every one of them, falling more and more in love with her every day.

A few weeks afterwards, Percy took Mafalda to the Flying Gryffin for dinner.

He gasped when she appeared. "You look - wonderful."

She was wearing robes that looked more like a dress and her wispy hair was braided back.

Mafalda smiled at him. "No, I don't, but thank you. Shall we go then?"

They set off at a walk through Diagon Alley, laughing over the U-No-Poo sign, reaching the small café quickly. "I reserved a private room, if you don't mind," Percy said tentatively.

"That sounds wonderful."

Candles lit the room as they ate, kissed, and talked, not tiptoeing around the subject of the war but not bringing it up unnecessarily either. Percy was unusually quiet, his brothers' store bringing up memories he would rather forget, rather Mafalda never know about.

"What's on your mind?" Mafalda asked him. "You look distracted."

"Nothing," Percy said, not meeting her eyes. "It's a lovely night for autumn and -"

"I know you better than that," Mafalda said sternly. "Spill."

And he did. He told her everything (after casting a privacy charm), despite his shame, about leaving the family after an argument, about never making up, about passing his father in the hallways and never speaking. He couldn't look at her the whole time, staring at a napkin instead, waiting for her condemnation, but to his surprise, it never came.

"Wow," she breathed. "Quite a lot you've been carrying around with you."

"Yeah," Percy admitted, tension he hadn't realized was racking his body lifting, and he involuntarily smiled, taking a deep breath. "It feels so good to get it out of my skin."

"So…what now?" Mafalda asked. "Do you escape, or what?"

Percy looked at her like she was crazy.

"Yeah, that's probably not the best idea," Mafalda admitted. "But you could get into contact with your dad or something."

Percy looked down. "I guess but…I'm not really ready to face them, you know?" He hoped she wouldn't think he was a coward.

"Oh," Mafalda said sympathetically. "That's a different story, then. Something will show up, I'm sure. Don't worry too much about it."

Percy smiled. "Thanks. For listening." _And for not condemning me. For understanding. For not abandoning me._

"That's never a problem," Mafalda said.

They kissed once more before they left, holding each other tightly as if they would never see each other again, reveling in each other's presence.

As the war heated up, they had frustratingly less and less time with each other, and even the time they had became increasingly stressed. Every time Percy caught sight of Mafalda he felt giddy with excitement and then disappointment as she passed, his emotions flaring. He was lethargic when he couldn't see her. But it was better than, since his normally excellent self-control strained when he did see her to not reveal anything. It was maddening, having her within grasp and yet not quite with him. In response to this he shoved away her face whenever he thought of her, locked away his pounding heart and desperate desire, quenching it as much as possible.

Normally, Percy tried to keep busy to refrain from thinking about her because it just hurt so much, but some days, usually during the lunch he never wanted to eat, he would stare in his spoon, imagining Mafalda's face reflected it, hearing an echo of her voice. "Percy," it said, in her thin, silvery voice. And he would look in the eyes, getting lost in them, wishing he could see the real Mafalda and touch her and kiss her, until someone touched his shoulder, startling him out of his reverie.

A few weeks after Christmas, over a cup of butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron, Mafalda told Percy grimly, "Luna Lovegood was kidnapped."

Percy frowned, trying to place the name. "Luna…Lovegood? As in Xenophilius Lovegood's daughter?"

Mafalda nodded. "How much will you bet that the Quibbler will drastically change its opinions?"

"How do you even know this?" Percy asked Mafalda. It certainly hadn't been mentioned in the Ministry.

Mafalda looked around her and then said in a hushed tone, "My nephew's in the DA. That's-"

Percy choked on his butterbeer, spitting it into the cup. Betrayal, hot and irrational, ran through his heart. "And you never thought to tell me?"

"Wait…you know what that is?" Mafalda asked, clearly surprised.

"My younger brother _was_ involved in its creation," Percy told her in a clipped tone, hating that she still didn't trust him. "I may have dropped contact, but I'm not _that_ oblivious." Though it was true that Percy had always kept an eye out for his family, he mostly knew about "Dumbledore's Army" because of Umbridge's efforts to stop it.

Mafalda looked down sheepishly. "Sorry…I keep forgetting."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Percy asked heatedly, keeping his voice low all the while. His anger at the Ministry, locked up and hidden, came out in his voice now, and underlying the sense of betrayal was a soft, whispering voice. _Maybe you are just a traitor. Maybe she's right not to trust you._

Mafalda stared at him. "It never came up."

"Never came up?" Percy repeated, voice rising as he tried to shut the soft but persistent voice up. "This isn't something that just _comes up_, this is…Did you not trust me or something?"

"Of course I trust you, how could I not?" Mafalda said, her own voice rising in her agitation. "I'm sorry, okay? I just forgot!"

"You clearly hold _some_ reservations," Percy said, his voice hard.

Mafalda rolled her eyes, losing her temper. "Why should I have to tell you anyways? Seriously, Percy, this isn't the only time you've wanted to control my life. 'Why didn't you show up on time?', 'Who were you talking to'…who doesn't trust who?"

"I was worried about you!"

"I graduated Hogwarts in red and yellow with an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Percy Weasley! I don't need your help!"

"Because you don't trust me!"

"It has nothing to do with trust!" Mafalda hissed, her voice lowering back to a whisper. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have told you about Lovegood!" She slammed down a few Sickles, making people turn and stare. "I'll talk to you later when you've regained the ability to think _rationally_!" And then she was gone, muttering something about men.

Percy stared at her back, and then got up and left as well.

They made up the next day. Mafalda was capable of thinking through situations and Percy scared to lose the only person who he could confide in. But they were never really the same again, Percy's anger and guilt souring the affection, and as time passed and they stopped seeing each other and changed, the separation only dulled their love.

Easter came and went, bringing the news that Ron had been confirmed to be with Harry and that his family had gone into hiding. Even Ginny had been safe. Percy felt nothing but relief, his heart relaxing as another piece of tension was released. The Ministry was furious and Percy viewed with more suspicion than ever, but eventually they decided that it was going to happen anyways and things cooled down. Only Mafalda heard Percy's sobs of relief and a little fear and brought him the _real_ news from Hogwarts.

And yet, though they kissed, though they hugged, they both had changed, and when Percy looked at Mafalda, she seemed different, duller, and, if he really admitted it to himself, no longer enhanced by his love. He locked up this emotion with the rest and stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.

A few weeks later Mafalda invited Percy to dinner.

"Percy," she said nervously, "I…I"

"What?"

"I think we should break up," she blurted out.

For some reason, time didn't stop. Percy didn't freeze in anguish. He didn't even feel horribly cold. "Oh," he said as if she had said it was sunny outside. "Why?"

Mafalda looked insulted and relieved at the same time that he was taking it so well. "I don't think we're working out. We've just…drifted apart, you know?" She paused and then, seemingly steeling herself, continued, "You don't need someone like me. You need someone intelligent, someone strong, that you can respect, but who doesn't admire rules; someone who will challenge you and your beliefs but support you in front of the rest of the world."

There was a pause as Percy's brain processed this.

And then he dared admit it, dare feel relieved that she had been the first to suggest it. Maybe that was why he didn't feel so bad about it. He let himself consider it. It was true, he didn't feel the usual warm tingle when he looked at her. There was no special sparkle about her. She was just his confidant, really, nothing else. "Yeah," he said, a little sadly, because he had enjoyed their relationship. He bit his lip. "It's okay if you don't want to see me again."

"No!" Mafalda protested hastily. "I'd be glad to be friends, still."

Percy smiled at her. "So would I."

They broke off cleanly, neither with many regrets, but sometimes, sitting alone, he would think about her, and miss, even while he welcomed the relief, his old, convoluted, yearning feelings towards her.

She introduced him to Aberforth Dumbledore some time later. At first he wondered why she was taking him to the gritty, worn down bar, but then he learned that he had a passageway to the Room of Requirement and was providing the DA with everything they needed - and had saved his brother's life on top of that.

There was nothing you could really say to that, nothing you could really do but nod, a lump welling in your throat, and ask that if anything, _anything_ happened, to be told.

And he was. Harry Potter broke into Gringotts and he didn't know why, but he began changing before he left the Ministry, always in battle-ready clothes. Less than a week later he got a message from Aberforth in the form of a Patronus.

He had been with Mafalda at that time, walking home, and when the message came, both of them knew what his decision would be.

"Are you coming?" Percy asked Mafalda, not expecting her to say yes.

"Of course," she said, a spark lighting her eyes, and then Percy remembered that she had gotten an O in her Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT and that she had been a Gryffindor. Then she looked at her Ministry robes and grimaced. "When I get out of these impractical things. I should have followed your example."

"Well…I have to go," Percy told Mafalda, looking at her with regret.

"See you," Mafalda said, as if he was just leaving like on any other day. And then she kissed him, not on the lips, but on the forehead. "For luck," she said.

Percy took a deep breath, readying himself. "I'll need it."

And then he disapparated.

**Romance is hard to write. Seriously. Especially when you haven't even had a crush yet. So...how did it go?**


	4. Potters

**Summary: **Minerva McGonagall had been through 3 generations of Potters, but this one was worse than all of them combined. In both The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition and Reconstruction.

**Disclaimer: **You wish J.K. Rowling wrote on this site.

**Prompt number: 4 - Albus Severus Potter**

**Potters**

In her one hundred odd years, Minerva McGonagall had encountered three generations of Potters.

First it had been Charles Potter, the charming man who had helped her in Transfiguration and broken the heart of every girl in Hogwarts (including hers, though she'd never admit it) when he finally went out with the clever and innovative Dorea Black, who left her family and everything it stood for as soon as she could.

Then James Potter came, looking so much like his father Minerva could never get Charles out of her head when she saw him. He had quickly made a name for himself with his mischief-making and talent in Transfigurations. It was ever amusing to watch him chase down Lily Evans, stubborn and studious and always seeking justice, defending almost all his victims, especially Severus.

And of course, there was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, but more importantly for her, a Gryffindor worthy of the title. She had never let him see how much affection she had for the boy she had once bounced on her knee until he bumped into her one day, a single tear dripping onto Dumbledore's grave. Perhaps she had overcompensated, trying so hard to not show him favoritism in class. But behind his father's face and flying ability he had Lily's eyes, Lily's mannerisms, Lily's _handwriting_, and very often she had cried over one of his essays, remembering two of her favorite students.

His friends had not helped a whit. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley _really_ weren't Lily and James incarnate to watch over their son. Hermione's eyes were not green, and Ginny's hair resembled Lily's much closer, but when she was helping Harry and Ron in class, answering a question, or standing up for her beliefs, Minerva could see Lily. She could only pity Severus. It was no wonder he had tried so hard to break her of the habit of quoting the textbook; that had been Lily's trademark. Hermione even did it with the same intonation.

Ron was less similar to James Potter. He was not talented at Transfigurations, for one thing. But he was innocent and fun-loving and tactless and just what Harry had _needed_, especially after growing up with the Dursleys. Minerva didn't know the details, but after taking one look at Harry she had been ready to fly to the Dursleys, do - she didn't even dare think what she would do, and then fight Albus for custody of Harry. Ron had given him what he needed - a friend that found him interesting but would see him as a person and not a savior or someone to manipulate. He had just talked, and made Harry laugh, and learn those values that all children should learn, and kept the three together.

But despite having known Charles, James, and Harry and their respective friends, Minerva had been utterly unprepared for the chaos that was the next generation.

* * *

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat announced and James Potter II jumped off the stool and ran to Minerva's old House, where he was welcomed happily and soon joined by Fred Weasley. Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose in resignation.

Two weeks later, Hogwarts changed color completely. Instead of the old black ("But it was so dull!") all the walls were suddenly splashed with color.

"Change it back!" Minerva ordered the unrepentant pranksters.

Fred and James shrugged, smiling innocently at her. "But we don't know how!"

Minerva sighed and behind her, the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses looked with amusement or disapprovement at them. Severus glared especially hard. "You preformed a prank you didn't know how to reverse?"

"_We_ didn't perform the prank," Fred protested earnestly.

"Yeah! You can't accuse us without proof. Aunt Hermione always says that anyone is innocent until proven guilty," James agreed.

"Unless you're Potter or Weasley spawn," Severus muttered. "Then you're guilty unless proven innocent."

Minerva choked back a laugh at Severus's comment, not quite believing that she was actually agreeing with him. And yet he had put it so _perfectly._

She settled in for a long year.

* * *

The next year was, if possible, even worse.

This year was Albus Potter and Rose Weasley and Molly Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, who threw Hogwarts in complete disarray almost instantly.

After Albus and Scorpius managed to get into the same House: "HUFFLEPUFF!" and were seen exchanging hi-fives, it really wasn't surprising when Rose and Molly went to "RAVENCLAW!" They had brains, after all.

It didn't take long for Fred and James to mockingly turn the two red and gold. Not having pranked Hufflepuffs directly before, they hadn't anticipated the reaction their House would have.

"Is it even possible to put a whole House in detention?" Minerva asked Albus's portrait wearily a week later.

Severus snickered and Minerva glared. "This is _your_ namesake we're talking about."

A knock sounded and Minerva sighed. "Come in!"

Her breath hitched when she saw Albus Potter, looking even more like Harry from up close, and Scorpius, who resembled Draco Malfoy in everything but expression.

She concealed it hastily, though. "Yes?"

Albus slipped her a piece of paper that she hadn't seen him take out. She scanned it hastily and nearly fainted. It was a list of demands from Hufflepuff House that they wanted to be punishable by turning the student to Hufflepuffs. After seeing what revenge was like from the reputed "loyal" House, the very idea made her shudder.

Minerva composed herself and read it. Some of the demands, like the one that stopped people from calling Hufflepuffs weak (not that anyone would dare after this) were reasonable. Others…not so much.

"No, you may _not_ administer Veritaserum freely. Merlin, where do you get these ideas?"

Albus and Scorpius smiled together, sending a shiver down Minerva's spine. "But Professor, it's a common way for Hufflepuffs to find justice. We do it regularly and it's fine, we swear."

Chancing a glance around at the portraits of former Heads, Minerva was shocked to find that the Hufflepuff ones were nodding. "Keeps anyone from being unfairly punished!" one of them said.

Shaking her head, Minerva moved down the list. It wasn't long before she stopped again. "You are _not_ going to force students to help others with their homework."

"Again, it's common in Hufflepuff," Albus said calmly. "Promotes House unity and keeps all of our grades up, while teaching valuable skills in life. You can't deny that it's sensible, Professor."

Minerva didn't make another comment until she finally reached the end.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, but I can't agree to all of this." She handed the paper back with marks on the parts she found unacceptable. "Please reconsider and in the meantime, kindly allow the Gryffindors to eat, read, sleep, and everything else that has been made impossible." She wasn't sure how they had put stinging hexes on the Gryffindor beds, but she was tired just _seeing_ the starved and exhausted students. Of course, Severus fully supported the Hufflepuffs' actions.

The next day, Rose Weasley appeared with Molly Weasley II, with a list of demands the _Ravenclaws_ had.

"We've decided to ally with the Hufflepuffs," she said cheerfully. "We consulted with them and we've compiled a new list of demands that hopefully you'll agree to."

Minerva closed her eyes, wondering how everything had gotten so bad. She steeled herself as she read the first line.

"No, you may NOT experiment on students!"

"It's all in the name of science, though," Rose said, looking at her with innocent eyes. "And if any of them die, we'll be sure to compensate their families nicely and write thoughtful letters of condolence."

Minerva actually banged her forehead onto the table this time.

"Are you okay, Professor?" Molly asked sweetly. Her eyes flew open into a look of concern. "Do you think the compensation wouldn't be necessary, perhaps?"

A gentle touch pulled Minerva out of her happy fantasies of running away. Looking into Rose's concerned eyes, she couldn't help but be very, very worried. How had this all gotten so bad?

As if reading her mind - she wouldn't put it past Rose to be able to - Rose responded, "You know, it wouldn't have gotten nearly so bad if the Gryffindors had just apologized instead of retaliating. But after that, well, these stem back centuries, you know."

No, she did _not_ know. She did _not_ know that Hufflepuff alumni had reunions every three days or that they were required to go to any Hufflepuff that needed help and called. She did not know that Ravenclaws had compounded centuries of blackmail because they could see everything; hear everything (though of course, they wouldn't tell anyone important information unless asked), or that they had the most cheaters and bullies of any House.

She did not know because nobody knew and nobody had bothered to know for the past few generations, at least. Suddenly she realized what they wanted.

"You just want to change things, don't you?" Minerva accused.

Genuine smiles appeared on Rose and Molly's face. "See?" Molly said. "I told you it would be worth it."

"What do you _really_ want?" Minerva asked. She knew, or at least she thought she knew, but she wasn't willing to risk it. Not when there were students fainting from lack of sleep and food. The realization that Hufflepuffs genuinely didn't care about other Houses and Ravenclaws were fine with going so far to do what they believed was right was dizzying.

Rose and Molly looked at each other and smiled. "We want to break House boundaries," they said together.

"And you couldn't have just _said_ so?" Severus's portrait muttered.

* * *

Minerva was almost looking forward to Lily Potter and Hugo Weasley. The sweet, innocent pair couldn't be _worse_ than any of the others, right?

Wrong.

The "sweet, innocent" Lily and Hugo first proceeded to get into "SLYTHERIN!"

And then they turned life upside down for the nervous Hogwarts students.

As the last piece of Hogwarts fell in, Fred, James, Rose, Molly, Albus, and Scorpius all united with Lily and Hugo. Looking back, Minerva would realize that Lily and Hugo had been planning this since they knew about Hogwarts.

Completely disregarding every single unspoken rule of Hogwarts, they came to class wearing Muggle clothes, and persuaded most of their friends (including many Slytherins) to begin using Muggle supplies. There was technically no _rule_ stating you had to be in uniform, just that you had to _have_ robes. Wearing protective goggles and aprons in Potions class was practical rather than offending, though charming them onto everyone else as soon as they walked in was certainly not allowed. And _how_ they managed to replace all of the portraits with comics, shows on history, and "live" battles was something Minerva still wondered about.

But educational and practical jokes aside; what they really did was worse.

They incited the House Elves into rebellion.

It was something Hermione Granger had tried to do, but she had failed and only gotten the House Elves to shun the Gryffindor tower, as Minerva later learned. But these children, with their well-placed words actually did it.

House Elves loved housework like Hermione loved reading, but they needed to survive, so for a while only the most privileged House Elves could clean and cook. The others searched for work.

Enter wizards.

Wizards disliked housework, so many House Elves would knock on doors looking for work and get food in return. One day, an intelligent House Elf made an agreement with a wizard. He would give her work, food, and shelter. In return, she would protect his family and never leave. Soon almost all House Elves had entered similar agreements. However, time passed, and wizards began to worry about other things, like inheritance. That one was simple; they tied the House Elves to a manor. Scared of their magic, they forced House Elves to punish themselves when they disobeyed.

At first House Elves tolerated this, but they liked it less and less very rapidly. Voldemort treating them like scum was only the breaking point. From then on, House Elves were determined that wizards would never mistreat them again. While most House Elves were unable to unite and were less educated as a whole, Hogwarts was the prime place for a rebellion.

Somehow, Albus, at least, must have known this. He persuaded Hufflepuff House that they should clean up after themselves and suddenly Hogwarts' House Elves lost a quarter of their work.

The next day they went on strike.

Minerva later learned that they had disappeared to clean up the Chamber of Secrets. But meanwhile, Hogwarts was in chaos. They had never before realized how much they _depended_ on House Elves.

Slytherin House was the second to give in and just clean up after themselves, to much surprise. It was probably Lily and Hugo's influence. In fact, Gryffindor House was the most resistant, stubbornly refusing to do it for various reasons.

Minerva tried everything to get Albus to tell her where they were. He politely refused. Eventually she learned that every time she asked something in her office would be destroyed and she stopped.

When a House Elf representative appeared in her office, she didn't even wait for him to demonstrate how powerful a House Elf could be.

"Whatever you want, just tell me," Minerva said hastily.

Portraits behind her grumbled at the indignity but she shot them a withering glare and they shut up.

The House Elf smiled disarmingly. "Boppy and others want work and food and a place to stay. And we not want to hurt us. If we be happy, we be helping defend you too. Eee?"

"What does "eee" mean?"

"Here is mean how you say 'Yes?'."

Minerva suddenly realized that House Elves had a different language from them, to her shame. It explained the grammar. "I'm fine with that. I never liked the self-punishment, anyways."

Boppy looked confused. "Then why not stop?"

"Well…other wizards wouldn't like it.

"We not want stop working. We want not hurt us," Boppy stated.

Faced with his accusing eyes, Minerva felt guilty. Softly she said, "Minerva scared."

Boppy beamed as she used their way of speaking. "See? House Elf grammar smarter, eee?"

Minerva couldn't stop the laugh from escaping her lips. "How Minerva stop you hurt you?" She struggled with the odd grammar, but it was worth the light in Boppy's eyes.

Boppy beckoned and she followed him curiously, ignoring the stares she was getting from the rather conservative portraits. He led her to the place where the Head could control the wards. He pointed to a place Minerva had never noticed. "Not have this and free House Elves."

Minerva examined the tie he was pointing to. It was relatively easy to get rid of. She nodded to Boppy. "Minerva will do."

A smile spread across Boppy's face but he didn't leave. Minerva wasn't sure if she wanted him to watch, but if that was what he wanted, she was scared to press. The enchantment was harder to get rid of then she had thought, but when it disappeared, Boppy cheered. "Yay! Help because want, not have, and no stinky clothes!"

"House Elves hate clothes?" Minerva asked. "Why?"

Boppy gave her a look that clearly said she was stupid. "Why like clothes?"

Well, there was nothing she could say to that. Boppy waved one last time, and then disappeared.

* * *

Fortunately, there were no more major periods of starvation after that. Pranks henceforth involved well-designed historical plays, turning classrooms into Muggle-style ones, and elaborate welcomes designed for the incoming first years.

Minerva should have known something was up when the Pink Panther began playing as the first years came in. But she still wasn't prepared when she stood up and the Great Hall went dark.

And then there was a whistling sound as lights shot up and cracks as fireworks exploded in the night sky, the music changing to one of the Weird Sisters' most popular pieces. "Welcome, first years!" was written in the skies, before falling down again. Gasps were heard from below as every head turned up.

"LUMOS!" was shouted and a hundred wands seemed to have lit, the last fireworks fading.

Now two teams of brooms seemed to shoot overhead, illuminated by wandlight. Someone ducked when one person came too close, but the scene was an illusion and nothing more.

The snitch was caught and then it cracked open, a scroll seeming to fly out that said "Hogwarts, A History!"

Scenes flitted as the captivated audience watched Hogwarts and the rest of the Wizarding world through time. Someone screamed when they got to the Forbidden Forest and all that lay inside. It ended with the dramatic conclusion of the last battle - _Of course they wouldn't mention all that recently happened_, Minerva thought wryly - and then the lights came back on, the ceiling turned back into a starry night, and Minerva was left standing.

"Thank you, whoever put that presentation together, and 10 points from whoever's House," Minerva said.

There were chuckles before they silenced.

"I don't think I have anything more to say, except to thank the House Elves for this meal, so welcome back, and eat up!"

And the food appeared and life returned back to normal.

At least, as normal as life could get with students like hers!

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Footprints

**Summary:** _Escaping to Shell Cottage may not have been the bravest thing Ron ever did, but it was certainly one of the smartest._

**Disclaimer: **Only original fiction I've ever wrote was 3 months later in November (yes, the tenses are correct :D) when I finally decided to do NaNoWriMo. And I'm not profiting off sunsets, so don't even try sueing me for that :D

**Footprints**

The sun sank below the waves, its last rays still illuminating the clearing, turning the water crashing on the beach golden and red. Shadow fell on the beach as light quickly drew away. The first few stars, pinpricks that did nothing to dissipate the falling darkness, were already appearing in the calm night sky.

In the small cottage that stood on a cliff overlooking the beach, barely marring the scene, a man gazed out the window. Lights were already glowing behind him, brightening the room he stood in.

"It's so beautiful," he said in awe without turning around. He had been living in the cottage for months, but the sunrises and sunsets never failed to amaze him.

His wife of less than a year laughed, a tinkling, merry sound. Setting down the last plate, she threw back her silvery-blonde hair and walked up to her husband, wrapping her arms around him lovingly. "Indeed, _mon cheri_." The couple watched as the last rays finally disappeared.

Finally the man turned around and walked with his wife to the dinner table, casting a last look at the dark waves crashing down. The days were getting shorter, and dinner was usually after sunset now. "Hard to believe there's a war going on."

"But there ees, Bill" the woman said.

Bill sighed. "Yeah. I'm so worried about Ginny, Fleur…she says she's being safe, but this is coming from the girl who's been stealing our brooms and riding them since she was six."

Fleur laughed. "Geenny is - how do you English say it? - quite ze character."

They made inconsequential small talk for a time. Bill and Fleur both finished eating, and Fleur went to wash the dishes while Bill picked up an edition of the _Quibbler_ - Xenophilius was going to get himself killed someday. Outside, the sky had rapidly grown dark, and Bill lit another candle, watching as the darkness was pushed back, retreating into shadows. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking from his expression.

Abruptly, he said, "I wonder where Ron is."

Fleur smiled sympathetically at him, having rejoined him at the table some time ago. "And  
what he's doing, _non_?"

Bill nodded. "He's with Harry…and something was always happening around him, from what I could make out from Ron's letters. I hope he's saf- was that a knock?"

There was another, louder knock, and Fleur jumped out of her chair, rushing to the door. "Who ees there?"

"It's me!" a voice called. "Ron!"

"Speak of the devil," Bill murmured, getting out of his seat to join Fleur at the door. He raised his voice, calling, "What's in your room at the Burrow?"

"A ghoul in pajamas that looks like it has spattergroit!" Ron answered.

Bill nodded at Fleur. "It's him."

Fleur unlatched the door and let Ron in hurriedly. "_Mon dieu!_" she gasped. "What happened to you?"

Ron was truly a sight to behold. He was thinner, his arm looked like it had been hurt, his clothes were worn and torn, and his hand was covered in blood. He gave Fleur a tired smile. "Ran into a bunch of Death Eater wanna-bes," he said. "And I splinched myself. Hi, Bill."

"Snatchers?" Bill said in alarm.

"Oh, is that what they're called?"

"Why don't you sit yourself down and start from the beginning," Fleur demanded, pulling out a seat.

Ron took it, a look of shame crossing his face. "Well, I can't tell you what we were doing - that's up to Harry - but we had a row and I walked out. In hindsight, Harry was right about - but that's part of what I can't tell you. Anyways, I Apparated right into a group of Snatchers, told them I was Stan Shunpike. They weren't that bright and I got away easily. By the time I got back to where Harry and Hermione were at they were gone."

"So you came here?" Bill asked. His mouth was tighter than normal and his eyes were clearly disapproving, but he didn't press.

"If…if you'll have me."

"Family does not need to ask zat," Fleur scolded. "Of course you can stay!"

Ron visibly relaxed. "Thanks."

Over the next few weeks Ron stayed at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur. Fleur, much like Mrs. Weasley, took great pleasure in watching Ron slowly regain weight. Bill caught Ron up on the latest news, including the news on the Taboo, which Ron did not take very well.

Despite the cold, Ron spent most of his time outside, walking on the beach, throwing pebbles into the water.

One day, Bill joined him. The two redheads stood in silence, two sets of footprints side by side, watching their respective pebbles fly into the water, hitting it with a splash, soon obscured by the waves.

Bill broke the silence first. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Ron said shortly, kicking the sand.

Bill looked skeptical but didn't protest. Some things were just not meant for sharing. "We aren't going to the Burrow for Christmas, you know."

"Oh, okay," Ron said dully. Then the words sank in and he whirled to face Bill. "Wait, what?"

Bill laughed. "I said, we aren't going to the Burrow for Christmas."

"You're joking," Ron said in flat disbelief.

"Nope."

"But - how did you get Mum to agree?"

"Oh, I told her Fleur and I wanted to celebrate Christmas at Shell Cottage. Our first Christmas together, you know," Bill said in an airy tone that suited Fleur better than he.

Ron just looked amazed. "Th-thanks."

Bill winked. "To tell the truth, I don't think Fleur minded much. Don't tell Mum, but you know how she hates Celestina Warbeck."

For the first time in weeks, Ron opened his mouth and laughed. It was a small laugh, a short laugh, but both Ron and Bill were visibly lighter after.

"Well, she'll survive," Ron said casually. "It isn't like I haven't stayed at Hogwarts with H-Harry often enough." He stumbled over the name, but it was the first time he had mentioned either Harry or Hermione since he told Bill and Fleur what had happened.

"Or me in Eygpt," Bill added, looking over the water, but his eyes seemed to see something different, something far away and yet so close.

Ron nodded and silence fell again. But there are many kinds of silences - awkward ones, where one doesn't know what to say, oppressive ones, where one doesn't want to speak, and understanding ones, where two people communicate without words, and form a stronger bond for it, though they never speak of it again.

This silence was the latter kind, and at the end of it, they smiled at each other, threw their last pebble, and turned to leave. Bill put his arm around Ron and smiled, the sun highlighting the scars on his face that went deeper than skin. They walked back to the cottage, leaving only footprints crisscrossing in the golden sand, higher than the waves could reach.

They never brought up that day again, but life seemed to return to Ron's previously dull eyes, a spark that, like a candle, served to push away the darkness. A glint of humor and spirit came back, but with it was also a new awareness of self; a new maturity that hadn't been there before. Ron had the eyes of one who had stared in the precipice and watched it stare back at him; the eyes of one who had fallen into a pit and could see the light again. He began to laugh again, to talk again, to _live_ again; even to tell Fleur stories of him and Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts and their exploits, until the small cottage filled with the laughter of three people among the ghosts of their past.

None of them talked about Ron's leaving, though they knew the day was inevitable. They couldn't fathom how Ron was ever going to get back, and there was an unspoken agreement between them not to mention it, but it was there and they could not deny it. As the days ticked past, some moving quicker than others, all three of them knew with the utmost certainty that the day was coming.

It was on Christmas Eve that Ron finally left. He left after sunset, the first pinprick-like stars and one glowing moon, clouds parting to reveal it shining brightly in the sky, already out. Neither Bill nor Fleur knew how he had left. All they saw was Ron, a look of hope and fear and anguish and pain but overwhelming relief in his eyes, his rucksack on his back and a Deluminator in his hand, following a blue light like that of a Portkey into the garden and then to the shed. The light floated into him and he spun in that queer way of Apparation.

And then Ron was gone, gone to where the pain he had been escaping was, gone to confront his fears, gone to finally pick up the final pieces and heal completely.

The only evidence that he had ever been there was the footprints on the beach, already slowly being eroded away by wind and water.

**I've always thought that Ron was probably hurt more than he revealed by the break, and that Shell Cottage helped him more than we saw, so this is what happened behind the scenes. What do you think?**


	6. Because They're Slimy

**Summary: **"Dad, what do you have against Slytherins?" "They're all a bunch of slimy snakes, that's what." There's only a few days left before Rose's fifth year starts, but somehow she manages to get into yet another argument with Dad on that subject. Parody of Slytherin-bashing and (sort-of) Ron-bashing. In both the Quidditch Fanfiction League Entries and Reconstruction.

**Disclaimer: **Am not J.K. Rowling, do not own Fanfiction (not even my own - plagarize at will), yarn, or any of the other things mentioned in here. Hope that's clear! Also, not intended to insult anybody's hard work (though I hope I didn't) or opinions. Unless you think snakes are actually slimy. Then you should read more.

**Because They're Slimy**

"Dad, _what_ are you eating?" Rose Weasley asked her father in shock.

Dad was leaning back on the sofa, popping pieces of what looked like yarn into his mouth. Scattered around him were bits and pieces of blue that he seemed to have dropped while shoving the thick sewing material into his mouth.

"Mint yarn," he answered through a mouthful.

"Dad, mouth _shut_," Rose scolded, aware that she sounded like her mother when she did that. "And what in the name of Merlin is mint yarn?"

Dad chuckled, his tongue colored blue. "It's the annual Back-To-Hogwarts Wheeze."

"I thought that was Edible Sweaters," Rose answered. "They came out a week ago, remember?"

"Well, some people wanted to personalize it, and before you know - edible yarn. This one is the blue flavored one. Want to try some?" He held out a thick ball of blue mint yarn.

Rose took a rough-feeling strand and popped it into her mouth, feeling it dissolve, a cool peppermint taste flooding her mouth. She closed her eyes, caught in the tide of mint, and exhaled. A minty flavor wafted up to her nose. "It's good!" she said as she plopped into a somewhat bouncy, blue and orange seat with an S-shaped back that Muggles had invented. It was supposedly good for her posture.

Because each of the family members preferred different chairs - Mum a straight backed, cushioned seat, Hugo what was basically a really big, squat, cylindrical pillow, Dad his sofa, and Rose her bouncy chair, there was a strange assortment of chairs in the living room around the flat, pockmarked table that they played Exploding Snap and chess on in the light of the fire. A red and gold rug covered the polished wooden floor, but the walls were a light blue at Rose's insistence. She refused to live in a house without _some_ Ravenclaw colors.

Dad beamed. "Isn't it? And charmed to be clean, like the Edible Sweaters. George hasn't made it Slytherin-proof yet, but it's only a matter of time."

Rose ignored that last comment. Their disagreement on Slytherin would forever be a bone of contention between them. "I'm going back to Hogwarts tomorrow!" she said happily instead.

"Oh, my poor little Rosie, going back to face those mean Slytherins with only a few of your loyal lion family members to protect you," Dad moaned, looking at her sadly. "Don't worry, James and Fred will be with you as much as they can."

Rose rolled her eyes. You would think that having Lily and Hugo, who were practically the definition of Slytherin, would have inured Dad, but no, he still held fast to his prejudices like a baby with his rattle. And to think that his wife led the movement for equality and change in the Ministry and (if she said so herself) his children at Hogwarts.

"I can protect myself," she said slightly coldly, sitting up straighter than she already normally did. "What do you have against Slytherins?"

As soon as the words left her lips she wanted to bang her head for being stupid. During times like these, she could understand the house elves' self-punishment. She _knew_ this would start yet another debate that would result in her wanting to hex Dad for stupidity.

Sure enough, Dad answered in a matter-of-fact voice, "They're all a bunch of slimy snakes."

"Dad, snakes aren't slimy. They just look that way because of the way the sun reflects from their scales," Rose answered automatically. To try to distract herself from Dad she ran through her plans for the year.

In the four years she had been at Hogwarts, she had organized and helped carry out what were now being called, respectively, the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw Rebellion, the House Elf Uprising, the Education Edification, and the Muggle-Magic Coeducation Campaign.

This year, Rose wasn't sure what was being planned. She knew Lily, Albus, and her errant little brother were cooking something up, but whatever it was, they were keeping mum.

"…evil," she heard Dad say, but she knew what he had said before.

For a grand total of three seconds Rose didn't retort. And then she gave in to the need to correct him and said, "Excuse me?"

"Rosie, I know it's hard for you accept - Hogwarts has bloody well corrupted you - but Slytherins are evil. Just look at Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy…"

If this wasn't Dad, Rose would have hexed him. Why couldn't he have been like…Professor Longbottom and have gotten over it? Instead she made a strangled noise. "Lily? Hugo?" She paused. Bad examples. "Never mind, those two _are_ evil. But what about Irena Parkinson? Katrina Orleans? Anita Wood? Zygo Matic? Cindy Habir?" She named names of some of the most ethical people in the school.

"Exceptions," Dad said promptly, a response that caught Rose off guard before mentally groaning. "The Sorting Hat makes mistakes."

"That's a whole lot of mistakes then," Rose deadpanned. It seemed this debate was going in _that_ direction. "Besides, Slytherins are picked for their traits, _not_ for being evil, believe it or not. And if you actually _look_ at the statistics, Ravenclaw house has produced the most villains." Intelligence and a lack of ethics - ethics were generally for Gryffindors and Slytherins - were not a good combination.

"Rose," Dad said in a patient voice, "don't look at useless sc - scacisits -"

"Statistics, Dad, and they _aren't useless_!" Rose huffed indignantly. Of all the things Dad believed, this had got to be the worst, even worse than his strange belief that red and gold (both colors that Rose detested in large quantities) would turn Rose and Hugo into "proper" Gryffindor Weasleys. She realized belatedly that she was standing, her hand on her hips, and sat down with a sigh. "Honestly, where did you get that idea?"

"You told me yourself," Dad replied promptly. Amazingly, he sounded like he believed it.

"I bloody well did not!" Rose snapped, feeling indignation rise up again. She bit her lip and exhaled sharply, trying to calm the hex she could practically taste, coppery and salty like blood, sour against the memory of the mint. Dealing with Dad was sometimes - usually - like dealing with a child. "How?" She was aware that her voice was overly patient, bordering on patronizing, but seriously, it was like Dad had never grown up.

"You said that statistics say that Slytherins aren't evil, so they're useless," Dad said with conviction.

Rose closed her eyes tiredly, leaning against the back of her chair that was the only reason she wasn't slumping. Only Dad would manage to use such faulty logic. Mum just rolled her eyes when he did it and gave him a piece of cake. She told Rose jokingly that she wished she could shut up the rest of the Wizengamot so easily.

"Are you okay, Rosie?" Dad asked concernedly. "Do you want more mint yarn?"

Rose took another strand, opening one eye to watch the blue, fuzzy piece of yarn as she rolled it between her fingers. She closed it again as she put the mint into her mouth, rough against her for an instant before dissolving again, the cool taste of winter mint tingling against her senses. It was just as good as the last strand had been in seemed to rejuvenate her. She opened her eyes and smiled at Dad. "Thanks, Dad." Even though he had strange beliefs and embarrassed her whenever friends came over, he could still be sweet in his own way.


	7. Teacups and Choices

**Disclaimer: **I did not come up with the idea of soul-bonds. That being said, you may not want to read this if you're in love with Draco/Harry or soul-bonds or hate Harry/Ginny

**Summary:** Somehow, Luna's always understood life better than Harry.

**Teacups and Choices**

He should have been happy.

After all, the war had ended with his side victorious, he had a stable job and was looking to be promoted soon, his magical abilities had taken a boost, and he was with his wonderful soul-bonded, soon to be officially married.

So why did he always feel like something was missing?

It had taken a surprisingly short time to get over the war. Perhaps it was to be expected. He had never had much PTSD, not even in 5th year after Cedric died, or 6th year after Sirius. And of course, his soul bonded had helped him along, just like Ron and Hermione had had each other.

He still had nightmares, of course, ones that woke him up at night, leaving him breathing faster, sweat crawling over his body, his blankets damp, but nothing like when he had been a horcrux. And after discovering his soul bond with Draco Malfoy, he had rarely slept alone, which helped the nightmares.

Discovering that he was soul bonded to Draco Malfoy had certainly been a surprise. But they exhibited all the signs - they'd had a schoolboy enmity that had faded as they grew up, they had mastered each other's wands, they had saved each other's lives, they were constantly thinking about their soul bonded, they were opposites in more than ten different ways, they fit in the other's arms, and most importantly, soon after they had kissed (it had been a drunken accident the night after the war had ended) their magical cores had expanded, especially Harry's.

Ginny had been disappointed, of course, but she couldn't deny the soul bond. Harry thought about her, every now and then. She had joined the Holyhead Harpies soon after the discovery but wrote regularly to Hermione. Hermione, naturally, had thought the soul bond was nonsense even after books confirmed it. But Ron had reminded her that prophecies and therefore Fate existed, and grudgingly she had accepted their partnership.

And Draco's mother had taken to Harry like, well, the mother she was. Harry had discovered that she was a very interesting conversation partner, though when she had started talking to Hermione (which had effectively changed her opinion on Muggleborns) he hadn't been able to understand a word.

Harry and Draco, for their part, had been blissfully happy, though a voice in Harry's head whispered that that due to the end of the war and not their relationship. Harry was accustomed to ignoring it. He was happy, his life was perfect, and he loved Draco.

None of this, of course, explained why he was currently on the doorstep of Luna's unusual house, seeking her odd perspective and un-straightforward but often practical advice.

Luna's house looked completely ordinary at first glance, expect for the fact that it was painted silver and upside down, the tip buried in the ground, though a chimney did stick out on the top and there was a slanted door in the roof-that-was-the-first-floor. A white fence surrounded it, protecting her garden of diringle plums or whatever she grew. Pushing open the gate, there was a neat if blue path leading to her blue-and-silver splashed door. A bronze statue of an eagle, its wings outstretched, beak open wide, was in the fountain, water spurting out of its mouth to splash into the pool. Bird feed crumbs were all around it. The house had eight round windows, two on each side, painted the colors of each house. Planters stuck out from all of them, keeping to the color scheme. On the top of the house was a garden of violets. It was beautiful, peaceful, and so completely Luna that Harry immediately relaxed as he pulled the string that rang a bell.

Footsteps sounded, pattering down, and then the slanted door swung inwards to reveal Luna.

Luna's eyes lit up when she saw Harry, making him feel immediately welcome and ashamed to not have come earlier. Luna had always had that singular ability to make people feel warm and uncomfortable at the same time. "Come in!"

Harry ducked to enter the slanted door and walked in, stopping short when he realized he was standing on a platform. Luna leapt nimbly down onto a blue rail jutting out in the sharp part of the roof and ran to the middle. Then she turned around and waved at Harry.

"Coming?"

The first time Harry had visited Luna in her house, he'd plummeted down onto the rail and lost his balance, falling into a box with his legs splayed out. Luna had laughed and shown him how to do it properly before letting him in. Now, he took a cautious step to the edge, before hopping off and landing with a thud, one foot in front of the other, his knees bent. He would never be able to do it as well as Luna.

Balancing precariously, Harry followed Luna as she led him across the railing to a pair of ropes. The slanted area was filled with boxes and brooms and mats and a few welcome signs hanging neatly, but Harry had never found out what was in them. They reached the ropes. There were two, hooked onto the floor and disappearing up a hole just wide enough for a person. One of them was knotted, while the other wasn't. There was another hole next to both of them with a bouncy mattress under it. Harry knew that Luna jumped down that hole to get out - he preferred carefully maneuvering down the rope.

At least he didn't need the knotted one like Hermione did. Luna, on the other hand, jumped twice on the mattress before springing up and disappearing into the hole. Harry shook his head. One day he would figure out how she did it. Until then, he was satisfied with the unknotted rope. It only took him a minute to climb the three or four meters up and then he grabbed the edges of the hole and pulled himself up.

Her floorboard was clay with a carpet on one side. She had no chairs, but cushions and beanbags embroidered with flowers were scattered around. The walls were painted pale blue and blended in perfectly with the windows. In cracks in the floorboard grew plants, twisted trees and flowers until half of her living room looked like a veritable garden. In the kitchen there was a side that was an actual garden growing in a huge pot with tomatoes on this side and cucumbers on that, shaded or lit appropriately with a spell. The rest of the kitchen was so clean Luna ate on the floor when she felt like it, though there was a table and padded chairs in this room.

Luna was already at the stove when Harry entered the kitchen. She was humming to herself and watching quaint teapot with vines on its side that was whistling in the stove. When she saw Harry come in she turned off the fire and took the teapot gently over to Harry, pouring the dark liquid into two cups. Harry sat down as steam rose from the teacups.

"So, what's wrong?" Luna asked as she sat down across from him, taking her own cup.

As usual, Harry was struck by Luna's perceptiveness. "How did you know that something was wrong?" He wasn't so bad at Occlumency that he wouldn't have at least known about a mind invasion.

"There are Nargles over your head," Luna explained.

Harry gave her a look.

"And besides, you only visit me alone when you need advice or comfort," Luna said with a smile, making Harry wince guiltily.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"No, I'm always glad to help others get rid of Nargles," Luna said. "I'm thinking of founding a society - WAN, or Wizards Against Nargles. Do you think Hermione would help me?"

Harry, in the middle of taking a sip, choked. Instead of pounding him on the back like most people would, Luna serenely lifted her wand and gave a half-twist. Instantly, Harry felt his throat clear and even the burning fade.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking another sip. He'd acquired a taste for Gurdyroots after Luna had explained that it was better with sugar. She'd been right. He considered her question. "Nah, I think Hermione would be more concerned with equality issues."

Luna nodded approvingly. "I think you're right." Harry's shoulders relaxed at the slight praise and Harry realized how tense he'd been lately. "Now, why are there Nargles around you?" Her eyes narrowed and she suddenly swatted something near Harry, making him flinch back reflexively. War and Auror training had made him paranoid.

"Don't _do_ that!"

Luna just smiled at him.

Harry attempted to hold her gaze, except warnings instantly began filling his mind. _She could be reading your mind_, a voice that sounded very annoyingly like a combination of Mad-Eye and his Auror trainer said. Harry brushed it off. Luna didn't need Legilimency to read his mind.

"It's just - Draco - and the war - and rebuilding - and - and - I just don't understand why I'm not happy!" Harry burst out.

"I'm not the Umbugular Slashkilter," Luna reminded Harry. He wasn't sure what that was, but it was a fairly obvious prompt for him to start from the beginning.

And Harry did. He talked for 15 minutes straight, the words feeling oh so good as they tumbled out of his mouth. Luna was an excellent listener, nodding and looking sober at the right moments.

"- and I just don't _understand_! I'm soul-bonded to Draco, so why aren't I _happy_, why do I keep thinking about Ginny?"

Harry stopped short suddenly. "Did you put something in my drink?"

"Just Gurdyroots and sugar," Luna said, not that Harry felt reassured. For all he knew, Gurdyroots were compulsive substances. "Why are you so scared about caring about Ginny? You kissed her. And she really likes you still, you know, she just won't tell you because she's scared. Personally, I think she has Nargles as well."

Heat flared in Harry's cheeks, tingeing them with red from shame and frustration. "Well…yeah…but I'm soul-bonded to Draco, not Ginny. I don't _understand_, it doesn't make sense!"

Luna tsked, or at least did the Luna-version of it. "Why does it have to make sense?"

"Of course it has to make sense!"

"Nobody knows how Penelines fly through walls - they don't even have wings - but that doesn't stop them from doing it."

"Pene - what? Never mind." This was _Luna_, after all.

"What does Hermione think?" Luna asked, to Harry's surprise.

"Well, she doesn't believe in soul-bonds, of course, but that's ridiculous, no offense to her. _Everyone_ says they exist. I love Hermione and all, but sometimes she's so stubborn, even when everyone around her says otherwise."

"Everyone isn't always right," Luna said softly. "Everyone thinks that Mandrakes can't talk, but when muffled in soil, it's possible to understand their screaming. Everybody said that you were a raving lunatic, but you weren't." Luna smiled. "That's why I like being a nobody."

Harry took a moment to process her words before being hit with flabbergasted-ness. "You _don't_ believe in soul-bonds."

"No," Luna said as got up and left.

Harry sat there, mouth agape, not even calling her back, as he tried to figure this out. First Hermione, and now _Luna_, who believed in the most impossible things. _What if -_ he gulped, but then charged bravely forwards, _What if soul-bonds really didn't exist?_

_Then why did I save Draco?_ One voice in Harry's head reasoned.

_Basic human decency,_ another retorted. _Unless you were under Gabrielle's thrall when you saved her? And in love with Cedric when -_

_Stop!_

The voice obliged, thankfully.

_What about the magical expansion, though?_

The voice seemed to do a mind shrug. _Ask Hermione, I bet she could figure it out._

_But we are soul-bonded, we have to be! Our souls are obviously linked! Draco commented on my fainting and always knows when dementors were near._

_Who doesn't know when dementors were near you?_

Harry's soul-bond supporting voice began another question, but at that moment Luna walked back in happily, holding a battered copy of the _Quibbler_. Its front page was half torn off, the inside ones bent and dog-eared, but it was in reading condition.

"I found it!" Luna said as if Harry knew what she had been looking for. She flipped open the _Quibbler_ to an article with the headline "The Truth About Power".

Harry read on. At first he did it just to satisfy Luna, who was looking at him with eager eyes, but then he was truly fascinated. Contrary to popular belief (the _Quibbler_ never had been mainstream), the article claimed, nobody was magically more powerful than anyone else. It was all just a matter of communication to the wand, control, and physical health. Like most of the _Quibbler_'s articles, this one oscillated between nonsensical and plausible. He tapped it with his wand and it duplicated.

"What do you think I should do about Draco, then?"

"Ignoring the soul-bond, do you love him?" Luna said simply.

"Yes. No. I don't know!"

"You should figure that out, first," Luna pointed out.

"But I have to be soul-bonded to him!" Harry said, his voice rising. "How can I _not_ be? All those signs - what about my new abilities to do magic?"

Luna gave him a mildly exasperated look and reached up to pull a Nargle out of his hair. "When you lost your connection to Riddle, you stopped having to fight him all the time."

Harry gaped at her. "That makes sense. And Draco?"

"The war ended."

"So I'm _not_ soul-bonded to Draco," Harry said slowly, trying to pick some order out of this chaos.

"That's not what I said," Luna contradicted.

"What?"

"I don't believe in soul-bonds, but others do. You shouldn't change your opinion so much just based on what people say. But if you don't love Draco, then you don't love Draco. A soul-bond shouldn't hold you back." She tilted her head sideways. "And if you do, it shouldn't be because of a soul-bond."

"Do you think I love him?" Harry asked in a whisper.

Luna twirled her blonde hair with a finger. "I don't know," she said, looking at him. "I couldn't love someone I nearly killed, hated, and suspected, but some people can."

"Ron and Hermione," Harry said drily.

"But I don't think your situation is like Ron and Hermione's. All good friends argue, and they've learned how to see the other person's side, though it took them long enough. You and Draco hated each other, and then one day you got drunk and kissed, and suddenly you had to be in love," Luna said in an uncharacteristically matter-of-fact way.

Put that way, Harry could suddenly see what she meant. His relationship with Draco had been so _taken for granted_. Neither of them had actually thought about the love aspect or the fact that they had hated each other for over 6 years- they had been soul-bonded and that had been enough. But there had always been that I'm-being-forced-to-love-you aspect to it that had been too much like the I-have-to-kill-Voldemort-because-of-the-stupid-Pro phecy that Harry had always fixated on until Dumbledore had explained to him the difference between being forced to do something and doing something because you want to, even if you're forced anyways.

"What should I do?" Harry asked.

Luna smiled at him. "I think you know," she said, taking another sip from her teacup and emptying it. Harry stared down into his own half-empty teacup, no longer steaming.

Or was it half-full? Harry eliminated the dilemma by draining the teacup, the drink still warm. There. No more half-full or half-empty questions that Hermione reveled in. Just an empty teacup, sitting there, a few drops of tea gracing the bottom.

First, Harry had a maybe-not-really soul-bonded to talk to. And after?

Maybe it was time to talk to Ginny again. Ginny, with her passion, with her fiery hair, with her temper, and her soft lips, her steadfast confidence and understanding.

This time when Harry left, he jumped down the hole like Luna and let the mattress catch him.


	8. Parents Unmentioned

**Summary: **Parents are precious, Hermione knows. But they can be so exasperating at the same time. Fortunately, comfort comes from unexpected areas. Namely, Orion Black's portrait.

**Parents**

"He's _what_?" Hermione asked. She held up her hand as they opened their mouths to speak. "Never mind, it's Harry." Rolling her eyes, she marched over to Buckbeak's door and rapped sharply, not looking to see if Ron and Ginny were following. Honestly, she'd just gotten back from a rather unsuccessful skiing trip with her parents. She didn't _want_ to deal with him right now.

But friendship was friendship, and Harry was Harry, so when Harry asked her what she was doing here, she adopted a light tone, tried to swallow the wobble in her voice, and informed him that "skiing wasn't _really_ her thing", and that "Mum and Dad were a bit disappointed". She had no right to feel bad about getting into yet another argument with her parents when Harry didn't have any.

Leading him to his bedroom, she suppressed a groan at his surprise when he saw Ron and Ginny. It was warm in there from the fire, too warm in her jacket, so she took it off before steeling herself to work through Harry's stubbornness.

It was, thankfully, easier than she'd expected, and after telling him in what was perhaps more exasperation than usual that it was impossible to Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts, Harry had regained his ability to think and she could leave.

Ginny went downstairs to tell Mrs. Weasley that Harry was out of his room again, so Hermione went to her room instead. She collapsed onto her bed and lasted a full three seconds before the lump in her throat overflowed and she choked, tears spilling from her eyes into her pillow.

"I _never_ see them!" she told her pillow in a strangled voice, punching it raggedly. "Why couldn't they have just treated me as a bloody _child_ for once?"

She had been so excited to see them after the stressful school year she'd had. This time, she'd thought, this time they'd have a peaceful vacation together.

_As soon as she emerged from the barrier she saw them, Mum and Dad, standing in the middle with their typical clinical, dissecting looks that just screamed, "DENTIST! Stay away if you want your mouth intact!" Indeed, the crowd parted around where they stood with straight backs, looking around with no trace of the intellectual curiosity they displayed as tourists. Standing in their little island of peace, Hermione had no trouble spotting them._

_Unlike everyone else who spotted Jean and David Granger, Hermione ran right towards them, her trolley cutting a path straight through the crowd. "Mum, Dad!" she shouted as she pushed a woman out of her way, ignoring the way the woman scowled at her, shaking her head._

_She hugged Mum as soon as she reached her, letting go of her trolley to wrap her arms above Mum's arms. She was taller than Mum now, at long last. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione exclaimed. "I've had the most awful -"_

_Mum firmly pried Hermione's arms off her, pushing her gently away. "Hermione," she said in a disapproving tone, "what have we told you about public displays of emotion?"_

_Disappointment stung her eyes as Hermione's joy from getting out of school faded. She clenched her teeth, annoyed at herself for having expected anything else. "I'm sorry, Mum," she said finally. "I've just had an atrocious Defense teacher, a woman named Umbridge who -"_

_Mum put up her hand. "Hermione," she said firmly. "I don't want to hear it. You're a fifteen year old girl; you're more than old enough to deal with it yourself."_

_Hermione stared at Mum, feeling a sense of rising betrayal. She pushed it down; she hadn't seen them in months, surely she could endure her parents' idiosyncrasies - it had only been recently that she'd realized they were idiosyncrasies and not the norm - for the chance to see them. Still, she couldn't help but feel resignedly hurt. Ever since she had been 5 they had treated her like an independent adult, expecting her to handle bullies and schoolwork by herself and use her teachers appropriately. _

_She forced herself to remember that she rarely saw her parents and swallowed the final protest of disappointment. They were right; she needed to deal with this herself. Telling herself sharply to stop her useless self-pity, Hermione spent the rest of the car ride considering possible ways to combat Umbridge._

Hermione's wet hair tickled her sticky cheek, her thoughts bittering slowly. In her exhausted state, she didn't care that she was too old for tears or that she was shivering in the fireless room. Her breath hitched as tears spilled out from her eyes soundlessly, her hands strangling a damp pillow without fervor.

"I bet they wouldn't even care if I disappeared from their lives," she sobbed, voicing her thoughts to an empty wall. Unfortunately, no voice of reason contradicted her.

They certainly hadn't cared when she'd left.

_Hermione walked into the hotel room she was sharing with her parents tiredly, taking off wet clothes. They were already in there, sitting on warm beds._

_"I hate skiing," Hermione muttered as she changed._

_"Hermione," Mum reprimanded. "You just need practice."_

_"PRACTICE?" Hermione exploded suddenly. "I don't need practice, I need help! If you'd only remember that I'm FIFTEEN and have no talent for skiing and HELP me, maybe I'd enjoy it more!"_

_Mum listened to her rant in silent disapproval. Dad, on the other hand, voiced his thoughts aloud. He sighed, shaking his head. "All those years of hope, of teaching my daughter to work for herself, and this is what we get? Someone who relies on her parents for everything?"_

_While his monologues had once induced guilt, now they just made her temper flare up. "'Relies on her parents for everything?' You didn't even help me when I was going through my period! And if you have something to say, say it to me!" she snapped._

_"Why does everyone else manage on their own?" Dad continued out loud, completely ignoring her. "Where did we go wrong? If only she'd turned out like her friend Harry -"_

_"Harry lives with abusive relatives!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "I love him, but he's not normal! Honestly, where do you get the 'everyone else' from? Just look at, oh, I don't know, Draco Malfoy -"_

_"Don't compare yourself to those kinds of people," Mum reprimanded sharply._

_Anger rose up, the kind that left her wand as painful hexes, and Hermione didn't want to swallow it. She gritted her teeth and flung open her suitcase sharply, throwing clothes in. "You know what? I'm leaving. All I wanted was a nice family vacation but if that isn't what you want, I'm sorry."_

_"Excellent," Mum said, completely unperturbed. "You need to study - we wouldn't want your grades dropping."_

_Hermione slammed the door on her way out._

Now the still raw memory just made her sob harder, her hand trembling. "Why can't they c-care?" she cried. "Why can't they be like Mrs. Weasley? Why?"

"Trouble with parents?" a voice she didn't recognize said.

Hermione jumped, her hand going to her wand instantly as she scanned the walls. "Who's - t-there?"

"Look up," the voice advised.

Hermione did, but there was nothing but a portrait that was normally empty. But wait…it wasn't empty right now.

"W-who - hic - are you?" Hermione asked, her voice still distorted from her crying.

"Orion Black. You may have met my lovely wife already - she's the one with the loud voice."

Hermione gasped, the intake of breath ending in a hiccup. "You - you're Sirius's - hic - dad!" Her accusing tone was ruined by the hiccups that inevitably came after a long cry.

"I wasn't the best parent," Orion said, a note of regret in his voice. "I suppose I deferred to Walburga too much - I was always more obsessed with protections, myself." He sighed, a long exhale. "But that's all in the past. You seem to be quite angry at your parents yourself."

"Oh, it's - hic - nothing," Hermione said, her anger fading with her tears. "I'm just annoyed."

"Annoyance can be more damaging than you think," Orion said wisely. And then he added, "I learned that the hard way."

A corner of Hermione's mind expressed surprise and suspicion that Orion was so friendly, but it was a corner that had been blocked off when the first tear fell. "It's just - oh, it's really nothing. They consider me more independent than most parents do, and you know, I wish they didn't."

Orion nodded. "A lot of wizards are like that. I think it's a magical thing, really."

"My parents are Muggles," Hermione said stiffly.

"Oh, really?" His tone held nothing but curiosity. "Strange. I suppose that either your parents are anomalies or my hypothesis was false. I shall have to look into this further."

_He sounded like a scientist_, Hermione thought in dry amusement, for all his magical bias. "Muggles and wizards aren't really that different," she said.

"Is that so?" Orion looked contemplative. "Enlighten me."

Perhaps she was weakened from crying. Perhaps she just needed a friendly ear. For whatever reason, Hermione found herself spilling out her troubles with prejudice and parents alike, understanding why Ginny was so easily taken in by Riddle better. "Thank you for listening," she concluded finally, reluctantly. "I should go."

Orion nodded. "Of course."

"Will I find you again?" Her tone was slightly wistful.

Orion shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Even I don't know how the wards in this house affect my portrait."

Hermione nodded, accepting the answer. As she walked out, she did wonder if she should tell the others about her encounter. But seeing Sirius and Harry in such good moods she chose not to. The past and her parents were best left in the room she had just walked out of, after all.

She did hope that she would see Orion again.


	9. That Day

June 7, 1994

**That Day**

12:15 am:

Lisa Turpin tiptoed briskly down the darkened hallway, padded shoes lightly patting the cobbled floor, her basket nimbly avoiding obstacles. She ducked and weaved through shadows, under flickering torches in the strangely quiet castle. Portraits were shaded, sleeping, like she should have been, armor throwing tall shadows over the walls. Quickly, with the ease of an experienced roamer, she reached the doors. They were locked and sleeping, but she had long since come to an agreement with them, and a stroke in the right place got them to open for her.

The fresh July midnight air hit her and she breathed in, letting the cleaner outside air fill her lungs. The moon was especially bright that night, a full, glistening moon, wisps of clouds dark against its shine, but nobody would have seen the dark shadow darting quickly to the edge of the forest. She'd never found evidence that potions ingredients picked at the full moon were any better, but it was certainly easier to find them.

Most everything she could find a use for grew on the edges where it was light and safe, Hagrid's cottage easily visible, and she picked those first. She could have just bought them, she knew, but the ones that grew in the Forbidden Forest were of especial quality and besides, she didn't have the money. Lisa didn't even bother with consulting the list she carried in her basket, combing the edges for everything from fennel to fairy eggs. Once she'd even found salamander blood and acromantula venom, a real treasure. There were traces of unicorn blood as well, but she didn't know where that came from.

The last item on her list was for Su rather than her. She'd asked for monkswood and Lisa knew just where the best patch was. Her knowledge guided her as she walked deeper into the forest, trees closing behind her.

After a while of walking, she burst into a clearing. Monkswood grew there, deceivingly purple, soft flowers in a field of green leaves. They were especially beautiful with the moonlight pouring down, softening edges in the ethereal glow. It was hard to remember that monkswood, or aconite, had been used as a poison for centuries. Strangely, there seemed to be less of the plant than usual. Lisa shrugged as she waded through the green vines and leaves, expertly picking the purple plant and neatly putting it in her full and sorted basket. To prevent them from being contaminated, she had a container with dividers in it.

Her work finished, she began to return home when a faint howl sent shivers down her spine, her hair prickling. Lisa looked nervously back - was it just her imagination, or did the moon suddenly look a lot more feral? Her hand slid automatically to her silver thimble, a gift from her mother when she first left the Muggle world for this one.

_It can't be a werewolf_, she reassured herself. _There aren't any around Hogwarts._

_Except possibly Professor Lupin_, another voice reminded her.

_But he probably's given Wolfsbane, _the first voice said. _And I doubt he would be careless._

Another howl, closer this time, sounded, and Lisa broke into a run, kicking the dirt floor, trampling over plants, stumbling and wildly flailing. An instinctive fear gripped her, her muscles tensing for a fight as blood rushed to them. The run didn't catch up to her as another howl ripped through the air, angry and feral and violent, and she could see the edge of the forest now and kept her eyes on it as she ran.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a huge wolf that Lisa, even in her terrified daze, recognized as a werewolf, leaped out and barreled into her. She lost her grip on her basket as she fell backwards, plants cushioning her fall. Her chest moaned in pain but Lisa didn't hear it, caught up in adrenaline. The silver thimble that she had been holding came up without command as she tried to pierce the werewolf's skin.

It broke on contact, the blunt silver shattering on reinforced skin, and Lisa barely had time to curse herself. Silver only had effect on werewolves in Muggle legends, and they were far more vulnerable to the purple flowers now strewn on the forest floor. Then the werewolf pounced and she screamed as it bit her arm, kicking out.

She was suddenly reminded of two examples of assonance she had been taught. "When in doubt, use your mouth," and "If you can't go through its hide, always aim to hit its eyes," had seemed funny back when she was learning them, but seemed like very good advice right now.

The werewolf leaped for her and she yelled as she brandished her wand, shooting random spells at it. It easily shook them off. Lisa rolled, her need to live overriding her painful arm, out of breath. She hit a branch suddenly and the werewolf pounced.

"HELP!" Lisa screamed desperately as she tried to kick it. She grabbed randomly, waving it in front of her, and suddenly the werewolf stopped, small, yellow eyes fixed on the thing she held in her hand. Lisa realized with a start that she had grabbed aconite, and that it had another name - wolf's bane.

Lisa fell silent, backing away slowly from the werewolf as if her heart wasn't thundering along, holding the precious wolf's bane between her and the werewolf, her eyes fixed on it. Its haunches trembled, poised to pounce, and for a moment it looked like it would.

And then an arrow tore through the air from nowhere and hit the werewolf, bouncing off. It looked around, whining, before another and another hit it and it turned tail and ran away. Lisa gasped, her face wet from sweat and tears.

"What are yer doing out here?" an angry voice demanded and she flinched from the huge giant that appeared.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered out as she crept to her basket. Thankfully, it was mostly intact, and she quickly repacked it and picked it up. "I'll be going now; thanks."

"Jus' one moment," the giant said sternly. "Yer forbidden from here; it's called the _Forbidden Forest_ fer a reason."

"I know, but I ran out of my - I like to brew - I didn't know - nothing before," Lisa babbled out as a terrifying realization hit her. She was a werewolf now. "Please don't expel me!"

"That'll be up ter Professor Dumbledore," the giant responded. "Were yeh bitten?"

Lisa nodded numbly, new tears pouring down her face silently.

His face softened. "I'm sorry. Here -"

A gentle hand picked her up and he walked to Hogwarts briskly, careful not to jolt her, and Lisa collapsed, sobbing on his shoulder. He patted her. "Name's Hagrid. Call me if yeh ever need help."

1:48 am:

An owl carrying a letter marked 'URGENT' soared on the wind, heading to the headquarters of the _Daily Prophet_.

6:03 am:

Su Li had always been an early riser, just like Lisa Turpin had always been a night person. Today as she sat up in bed, a smile on her face, she suddenly realized someone was missing. Her smile faded. Lisa hadn't returned.

Quickly, quietly, she dressed and tiptoed out of the room and hurried to the hospital wing, where Lisa would most likely be. True to her guess, when she entered the wing, the first thing she saw was a pale-faced Lisa, lying on a bed with a bandaged wound. Su wasn't sure if her friend wanted her there, so she cautiously walked over, ignoring the three whispering patients in the adjacent beds.

"Hi, Su," Lisa said quietly, shrinking back almost unnoticeably as she approached.

"Are you alright?" Su asked softly, walking closer to sit next to Lisa.

Lisa nodded. "It's just - Su, if you don't want to talk to me again, I understand -"

Alarm rose. "Why wouldn't I?" She rested a hand on Lisa's arm. "Lisa, wait - I'm sorry you got hurt, it was the _aconitum_, wasn't it?" Lisa called it monkswood like the rest of the wizards; she would never stop using the scientific _aconitum_.

Lisa shook off her hand. "It doesn't matter, it probably saved my life. Su, there was a werewolf and -" her voice faltered. "It bit me."

Su heard a sharp intake of breath from the adjacent beds; she ignored it.

"Oh, Lisa," Su said in horror. "I'm so sorry, it's my -"

"No!" Lisa said. "I shouldn't have been sneaking off in the first place." She sighed. "Do you know a Hagrid?"

"Isn't he the one that greeted us as first years?" Su asked, wondering why her friend cared.

"He saved my life," Lisa said softly.

Su digested this information in silence and Lisa sighed. "Well, go on to breakfast," she said, smiling wanly. "There's nothing we can do, except learn to brew Wolfsbane."

8:00 am:

When the owls for the Daily Prophet arrived, the emblazoned headings were impossible to miss. "STUDENT BITTEN BY WEREWOLF!" They screamed, shouting Lisa's secret for the world to hear. Remus Lupin had already long since sent in his resignation.

Su clenched her fists at the dinner table as mutterings broke out, the news breaking the sound barrier as it traveled. It wasn't their business. It _wasn't their business._

She blocked her face with her copy of the _Daily Prophet_, opening it to a random page, before her heart stopped.

"Wizengamot votes new werewolf legislation into place!" Su knew what that meant - her friend would never get a good job. Below the heading, a picture of one of the most vile people she had ever seen, smiling sweetly and holding up a copy of the new bill. Below her picture, a caption said "Dolores Umbridge leads the fight against werewolf, saying 'I knew none of them were trustworthy."

Su had to close her eyes for a moment before she could control her anger. She didn't blame Professor Lupin, not as much as she should have, perhaps. Word had it that he'd forgotten to take his potion. Of course, that was awful, but Healers that made careless mistakes weren't treated like this. Just because he was considered a _creature_…

And the question of Lisa's shaky future hung over her head.

1:35 am:

"Did you hear about Professor Lupin?"

"He left!"

"Of course he did; he bit a student!"

"Poor girl…it was Li, right?"

"No, her friend, Turpin. Apparently she was sneaking outside or something but got caught."

"Oh, that must suck. Knowing she deserved it."

"But guess why Lupin didn't take his potion?"

"Why?"

"It was the trio! You know, Weasley, Granger, and Potter. They were sneaking out too, and there was something with Sirius Black and Snape."

"Sirius Black?"

"Yeah! Apparently Lupin was good friends with him or something."

"Good Merlin…"

Hermione closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as she listened to the rumors. She did an exercise she had been taught in 3rd grade when her teacher had caught her hyperventilating. Tuning out the professor and the rumors, she tried to sort through her emotions.

There was annoyance, of course. She was more than a little annoyed at the gossipers, chattering on. Then guilt, overwhelming guilt, for her part in Turpin's infection. Nervousness and anger, at the werewolf bill, were present as well. And maybe even a bit of annoyance at Turpin for having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nobody would have been bitten if she hadn't been trying to get some potions ingredients that she could have just purchased instead. But immediately, Hermione shoved away that thought. Even if she shouldn't have been outside, she was a werewolf for life. She didn't deserve that.

If only there was something she could do. If only she could have undid the events of that night.

The seed of an idea began sprouting in Hermione's head.

7:56 pm:

"Be assured, of course, that the Ministry is thinking only of your safety with this decision," the toad-like woman in the front of the hall finished with a sweet smile.

There was no applause; everyone just sat and _looked_ at her with dumbfounded expressions. The Werewolf Bill, unfair as it was, was one thing. But Ministry interference? Quite another.

"We have to do something!" Ron told Harry and Hermione in an urgent whisper. "How is Dumbledore standing for this? How is _McGonagall_? Hermione?"

"Leave it to me," Hermione said softly. "I have a plan."

8:15 pm:

As dinner ended, a stream of students poured out of the Great Hall. Nobody noticed one figure detach from it, heading to an abandoned broom closet.

In the dark closet, the only light a thin line outlining the door, Hermione Granger put on her time-turner with nerveless fingers, reviewing her shaky plan. _ Petrify Lisa. Leave yourself a note to do that so you won't cause a paradox. Whatever you do, don't be seen._ For a moment she hesitated, looking at her time-turner - and then she hardened her resolve. Firmly forcing her hands to stop shaking, she turned it over 17 times.

And erased the events of that day.


End file.
